Dangerous Illusion

Chapter 3

The Next Day

"I'm stopping by your place after school," Lara says, rummaging through her backpack like it’s a black hole. Pens clink, paper crumples, and somehow she pulls out a lone sock. “My mom’s out of the country, and she made me sign a contract.”

Now that’s not something you hear every day.

I shove a few books I won’t need into my locker, the metal door squeaking in protest. “A contract?”

“Yep. Full-on terms and conditions. She made me swear not to have anyone over while she’s gone. She even printed it on fancy paper and made me sign it with one of those gold pens.”

I glance at her, biting back a laugh. I know her parents take their business seriously, but I didn’t think they ran their home like a corporate office. “Guess there’s no going against your mom.”

“You can say that again. Last time I broke the rules, one of my classmates literally peed themselves when she popped up at the front door. She’d apparently been watching us the whole time—like some ninja CEO.” Lara slings her bag over her shoulder with a groan. “Class starts in five minutes. I’ll see you later.”

That’s my cue to head to class, too.

I step inside to a wave of voices.

“Did you hear? Lucas Dalton went to the office this morning and requested a schedule change.”

“I heard. Wonder why he did that?”

“Who cares? His parents basically fund the school. They’d let him do anything.”

Great. Lucas gossip first thing in the morning—just what I needed.

I drop my bag next to my seat and focus on pulling out my notebook, pretending not to listen. A moment later, our biology teacher walks in, launching straight into her endless love letter to cells and mitochondria.

Two classes later, the bell finally rings for lunch.

Lara’s already leaning against the wall outside my classroom, scrolling through her phone like she’s waiting to deliver breaking news.

Without looking up, she says, “Hey, Kaia. You heard the rumor about Lucas changing his schedule?”

“I have,” I mumble.

If Lara knows, it’s basically confirmed. She’s the school’s unofficial news anchor—ninety-nine percent accuracy rate.

“Then it must be real. But something’s fishy.”

“That’s probably just cafeteria food.”

She snorts. “Nope. It’s broth today. And for the record, that’s not what I meant.”

By the time we reach the cafeteria, the place is already at maximum chaos—metal trays clanking, sneakers squeaking against the floor, and a hundred overlapping conversations creating one giant buzz.

We snag an empty table just before a group of freshmen swarm toward it.

“I feel like I’ll never have a chance with Lucas,” Lara groans, flopping onto her chair and dropping her head onto folded arms like her life is over.

Here we go again. I just want one peaceful lunch without the Lucas Show.

I ladle some broth into my bowl and take a tentative sip. Huh. It’s actually good. Unexpected win for the cafeteria.

Lara’s still talking. “I mean, I’ve smiled, I’ve complimented him, I’ve even laughed at his not-so-funny jokes. But it’s like I’m invisible. What am I missing, Kaia?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re seriously asking me this right now?”

She sits up straighter, dead serious. “Am I pretty?”

I blink. She has long, glossy brown hair, lashes most people would pay for, and a figure that would get her mistaken for a model. Plus, she’s top of the class. Basically, she’s the type people write poems about.

I roll my eyes. “Of course not. You’re literally the ugliest person I’ve ever seen.”

She smacks my arm. “Shut up.”

“That’s what I thought,” I grin.

I set my spoon down. “Look, you don’t need Lucas to confirm anything. If he doesn’t see it, that’s his problem. Don’t waste your time on someone who’s blind to what’s obvious.”

She hums, taking a sip of her broth. A moment later, she nods. “Okay, this is actually amazing. I’m asking the cook for the recipe.”

“Who’s gonna cook it?”

“Me.”

I give her a flat look. “Then maybe don’t ask.”

She narrows her eyes. “Why not?”

“Because, Lara, you literally can’t cook. Last time you tried, the kitchen looked like it survived a small explosion. The neighbors called the fire department, remember?”

She pauses, then laughs. “Right. But still—worth a shot.”

Before I know it, lunch is over.

I’m halfway to my next class when someone jumps in front of me.

“Lucas!” I clutch my chest. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He smirks. “You’d think you’d be used to me by now.”

I scowl, pointing down the hallway. “Your class is that way. Why are you here?”

“Oh? You haven’t heard?” His smirk grows.

“Heard what?”

He adjusts his backpack strap, eyes locked on mine. “From today onward, I’ll be attending every single one of your classes.”

I blink. Once. Twice. My brain short-circuits. “You’re joking.”

He tilts his head, still smiling. “Guess you’ll find out.”

And just like that, he walks away—leaving me with a million questions and exactly zero answers.